An Assortment Of Words

Bars

The bars on your cell look awfully odd,
You look at them closely from side to side.
Assuredly, something is not quite right,
But you cannot think for the life of you what,
Everyone else in the cell is looking  too,
Unsettled by the bars keeping them in place,
The cell is so large, but they're wherever you face,
You hate the bars, but what can you do?
Somehow everyone seems to have forgotten,
The bars of the cell are all painted on,
There are drips on the floor, on houses and buses,
And everyone in the cell is holding paintbrushes.